To Where We Came From
by Kanoi-chan
Summary: It's the night before the showdown with Lucifer, and Castiel pays their fearless leader a visit. end!verse in honor of Croatoan day/week.


Well! Here's my offering for Croatoan week! It didn't turn out quite as I had planned, but I'm still pretty proud of it all the same.

This is also unbeta'd as I wanted to get it out quickly, so please excuse any errors. I went over it and hopefully got everything, but still...

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It might own my though...

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_"What? I like past you."_

It played through Dean's head over and over. He hadn't seen that look on Castiel's face in a long time, years actually. Not that he had anyone to blame for that but himself. Past him... The idealistic moron that would cause the downfall of humanity. That would be the fault for Castiel's fall. That would become **him**. And he wasn't sure who he hated more- past him or now him.

With an angry shout, he threw the bottle in his hand across the room, feeling not one ounce better as it exploded on impact with the wall, shards of glass and liquid spraying out like a nail bomb. It was nothing more than a waste of alcohol, not that the moonshine had been particularly good, but it had been some form of reprieve.

"I know Chuck's stuff isn't that good, but did it really deserve that?"

Dean ran a tired hand down his face. "What do you want, Castiel?"

"Nothing much. Just checking on our fearless leader the night before the final showdown." And Dean could hear the humorless smile in Castiel's voice, see it in his mind without ever having to turn around.

"Don't you have some orgy to attend to before the end?" Dean groaned out tiredly.

"Nope. Just you."

"Great. Well, fucking sucks to be you then."

"Indeed it does," Castiel agreed with that humorless lilt in his voice. It was a tone only he could seem to pull off.

Silence fell between them, and Castiel walked past Dean to the mess of glass and liquor on the floor. Picking up a shard, he held it up to the light, examining it, and Dean had the fleeting, tired thought that this was it. Castiel had finally gotten sick of everything and was going to end it all, right here in front of him. And wouldn't it just serve Dean right? Having to watch Castiel die in front of him instead of abandoning the man during some fight.

Still staring into the dirty glass, Castiel spoke, "Him being here is really messing with you, isn't it?"

"Who? Past me?"

"Yes."

Dean scoffed. "Right. Because I give a shit what he thinks of me. He'll be here himself one day."

Castiel finally turned his eyes to Dean, only his eyes, blue piercing straight through him, and while he had no doubt in his mind that the guy was still high as a kite, something about that look was so damn unnerving, just like it had been before his wings got clipped.

"You don't have to be jealous of him, you know," Castiel said, voice so weighty and serious.

Dean actually barked out a laugh at that, the sound hollow and bitter. "Right. That's rich."

Castiel's eyes softened, almost looking sad. The expression physically hurt Dean. He didn't need to wonder what Castiel was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking- "how did we get here?"

Castiel's eyes traveled back to the glass. "I still like you better, you know?"

Dean grimaced. "Yeah. Thanks for that. Real reassuring."

Castiel turned fully to face him this time, lowering the glass.

"I mean it," he insisted, sincerity so clear on his face that it made Dean's insides fucking burn.

Dean had to look away, couldn't stand all the damn loyalty written across the fallen angel's face. "Fat lot of good it's done you."

Dean was aware of the glass hitting the floor, but he still refused to look up. Even when Castiel's hands were on either side of his face, guiding it up, he refused to meet the man's eyes. And when chapped lips were on his, soft and comforting, it was like he'd swallowed fire, so hot and painful that he felt sick.

Castiel pulled away, hands still on Dean's face. "I'm devoted to you until the end. Ready to go down with this ship and all that." Then his hands were retreating, and Dean felt a panic rip through him. They hadn't had this kind of relationship in forever, Dean having thought it the best for both of them that they not be involved, but tonight he needed it. He needed it more than he had in years, probably since Sammy had said yes to the devil. So, fear and need rushing through his veins, he reached out for Castiel's wrists, pulling the man back to him with more force than necessary. Castiel fell off balance, crashing into Dean, and before he could recover his bearings, Dean's lips were on his again, urgent and rough. And Castiel was powerless to reject him, not that he ever would.

Dean pulled back, staring into Castiel's eyes imploringly. "Stay with me tonight? This might... It's the last chance we'll get."

Castiel smiled softly up at Dean. "There's no where else that I'd rather be."


End file.
